Coming In the New World
by Hel Kennedy
Summary: Radcliffe is frustrated over his lack of wife or mistress, leaving him open to seduction by Wiggins, who pleases him with the same loyal enthusiasm as he does when serving him any other way.


Wiggins X Radcliffe

The Virginia air was growing colder and night was coming earlier and earlier. As the last rays settled behind the mountain, the Englishmen returned to their camp. The largest tent was the temporary residence of Governor Radcliffe. A small, willowy waif of a man meandered with a candle here and there between the other tents until he reached the Governor's tent.  
"Sir!" he beckoned in a hushed shout at the flap of the tent. Soon after, he was seized inside to stare face-to-face at his master in the candle light.  
"Wiggins..." he said in a noble baritone, "this place is giving me a crick in my back. All this walking around with no proper paths - just dirt and rocks, roots, hills - has made me irate. Make me a cup of tea." He sat down on an inappropriately ornate sofa, leaning over to a table to light another candle.  
Wiggins filled a tea kettle from a barrel of water, nodded with a meek smile, and proceeded outside to the fire. He sits on a log and his glittery brown eyes stare lazily into the flames as they radiate a wonderful, comfortable heat all over his body. The whistle of the tea kettle startled him; he jumped up and attentively carried the tea back to his master's tent to prepare cups of tea for them both.  
He approached the Governor with the tea on a silver platter and asked politely, "Sir may I sit with you?" With no reply, Radcliffe shifted his husky frame more toward one end of the couch and smoothed the other side with his hand. Wiggins sat and handed the tea to him, "I made it just the way you like it." Radcliffe sipped with no reply.  
"I have no wife, Wiggins. This has been haunting me for years, but it just struck me that there is only room for her or you. I've become quite fond of you, Wiggins, but I'm getting old and I fear the family line will end with me." He spoke with a hollowness to his voice.  
Tilting his head and raising his brows in concern, Wiggins spoke, "Sir, you could have any woman in London. I would step back if it would make you happy"  
"Don't try to humor me, boy. I'm not that simple. I should have wed while I was young: not a fat boorish buffoon"  
Wiggins slid his small, cold hand into Radcliffe's large, silky hand. "Oh sir!" he sighed, setting his tea aside, and leaned his head against the Governor's shoulder. "It makes me so unhappy to see you brooding like this"  
Uneasily, Radcliffe shooed the petite man back to his side of the couch, kicked off his heeled shoes and bent stiffly down to remove his silken stockings, then slid his rear nearly to the edge of the couch and arched his back, sucking his stomach in enough to remove his belt.  
"Sir, would you like me to help you"  
Without a reply, Radcliffe stood and removed his jacket. Wiggins stepped behind him and traced his finger down the back of the lilac dress shirt to slightly above the top of the Governor's breeches - even in his typical effeminate purple garb, his body was the embodiment of masculine power and luxuriant excess. Wiggins swallowed uneasily. His mouth went dry and he shivered slightly, hands trembling as he slid his master's tight breeches down his full white buttocks and thighs.  
"Wiggins!" Radcliffe hissed and whipped around to grab him by his frail shoulders, but stopped, simply looking at him in humbled confusion. The slim man gently removed the maroon satin bows from the Governor's hair and ran his lithe fingers through the silky black strands, still thick despite a temporally receding hairline. He leaned forward, putting his hands against Radcliffe's thick waist, and kissed him with tempting lips on the middle of his broad chest.  
In an instant, Radcliffe swept Wiggins up in his arms and laid him down in the bed amid satin sheets and velvet blankets stuffed with the finest, softest down in all of England. He straddled his man-servant with his pale buxom thighs and cautiously unbuttoned the black and gold jacket and white shirt underneath to reveal a smooth, vulnerable chest with erect nipples. He ran his long fingernails down the childlike abdomen and traced down his protruding hipbones to the fastening of his crimson pants which he slid down Wiggens' narrow hips and faerie legs. "God, I could crush you..." he said in a whisper.  
"Do what you wish...I won't break," Wiggins replied, staring up seductively with his big, sparkely chestnut eyes. With that, Radcliffe smirked and flung the luxurious blankets over them both and lay next to his servant. For a few uneasy seconds, he stared into those doe eyes, then held him close against his soft body. When he felt a slender leg and foot creep up his calf, he clung tighter and pressed his thick cheek against Wiggins neck.  
Wiggins playfully ran a single delicate finger down the Governor's forehead, aquiline nose, and down his chin over a black chevron of beard. "You could get any girl in Lon-don," he said lightly in a sing-song, grabbing a handful of Radcliffe's rear. He smirked and slips from the large man's embrace to hover above him on his hands and knees. With a silky, delicate hand, he teases at the Governor's nipples, "Nice strong chest," down his rounded stomach, "a nice, wealthy silhouette," and he pauses, a glint of mischief in his eyes.  
Radcliffe closes his eyes and smiles to himself in pleasure at the flattery. "...and, oh! What is this, now?" he hears, followed by a touch that sent a magnificent chill from his groin to his throat. He props himself up on his elbows to look down at Wiggins grinning like a cheshire cat, stroking his member lightly. Their eyes meet and the servant pauses.  
"Don't stop!" he whispers and allows his shoulders to flop back down onto the bed. "More! Use your whole hand! Faster!" he swoons and rubs his pale chest which heaved with his impassioned breaths. Countless months had passed since anything but his own hand had come into contact, and it felt like months of un-had pleasure were about to explode out of him. He felt warmer and warmer, and sweat stuck strands of his black hair to his forehead. Suddenly, Wiggins' mouth slid lovingly down his shaft and his tongue stroked down the length, up again, and flickered at the head. He gasped and impulsively pushed the frail man's head down.  
At that moment, they hear footsteps in the gravel outside the tent. "Governor Radcliffe! Where is George?" a voice shouted from outside. Radcliffe turned on his side and quickly threw the covers over he and Wiggins right when the tent-flap opened.  
"How should I know? Don't bother me, I have a head-ache! Go find him if you have to, but leave me alone!" he shouted, suppressing his rapid breaths as not to make the soldier suspicious.  
A few seconds after the tent flap closes, Wiggins pounces out from underneath the covers. "That was sure close!," he whispered into the Governor's ear then proceeded to kiss his thick neck lovingly. The kissing turned into sucking, which turned into biting, and soon Radcliffe was under his servant begging him to stop...so he did, then affixed his thin rose-petal lips to his master's and forced his velvet tongue past the Governor' teeth lustfully.  
His erection, recently killed by the interruption, had returned. Wiggins' tongue danced gracefully against his, so seductively that he pushed the young man's skinny little rump down and thrust his own hips upward. Wiggins took the cue and began to grind against Radcliffe's plump hips, legs spread wide across them.  
The Governor breaks their kiss and throws his head back, "Put it in your mouth!" he says between deep breaths and wipes sweat off his forehead with his hand. A few seconds later, Wiggins hit some sort of 'sweet spot' - some combination of various things his mouth was doing - causing Radcliffe to moan low and soft, and practically slam his hand down on the back of his neck. "Oooh, yes! Like that! Like that! Good God, keep going!" he says breathily, panting harshly in between. "There you go! I'm so close!" he hisses and closes his eyes, "Mmm...Here it comes"  
In an instant, his body tensed. Radcliffe impulsively clenched his thighs against Wiggins' lean flanks, and he lifted the boy's head just as he came. Just as quickly, he went limp, sprawled out amid his expensive bedding, recovering his breath and smoothing his hair from his forehead. "Why did you do a thing like that?" Wiggins asks as he mops his face off with a towel from the wash bowl.  
Radcliffe smirks between breaths, "You forget who I am." 


End file.
